the Tithonus project: part two

a Tuesday

My therapist tells me that I am missing the point of the exercise by confining subject matter to rants about ducks and the weather. He told me I need to open up and share my story, my real thoughts and observations. I told him that this was never my half-baked idea in the first place, that I would write about whatever I damn well wanted, and that people ought to know about the ducks, though it be foul subject matter. I tell you, I almost up and walked out forever when he didn’t at least give a chuckle for that. I don’t trust people who can’t appreciate a good pun.

Nevertheless, a stern expression and doctor’s orders has me here clickety-clacking away again and trying to find a place to start. So, let’s see here…

My name is Charles Tithonus Reilly, and they call me “the first Immortal”. Hell of a claim for me to make. Surely, in spite of the new heart, the artificial spine (well, C5-C7 and a bit of a thoracic, anyway), and the TA-65 implant, I still bleed. A gunshot or a knife would do me in, if I or anyone else was so inclined, but no one dares to mention such things in the face of modern medical miracles. Nope. I turned 120, and they crowned me undying, God help me.

C.T.R.

the Tithonus project: part two

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